


Wings in All the Right Places

by Nihilistic_Janitor



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: Bittersweet Ending, F/F, Implied Relationships, Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-23
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-05 22:44:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12803979
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nihilistic_Janitor/pseuds/Nihilistic_Janitor
Summary: A little story about the Simurgh learning to be human and going to high school.





	1. Chapter 1

Alone on a swingset, a very small girl was crying.

She seemed like she was made of paper. She was pale, and thin, and folded. Looking at her, it seemed like the wind would blow her away any second. The girl was creased right down the center, arms in, head bowed, eyes tightly shut. The tears rolling down her face made little tracks, and it was easy to see that her origami form was close to tearing there.

The girl had a very important father, half a continent away. She knew this, though she didn’t know much else. She knew her tears much better than her father, their path as they soaked their way down her face and broke free from her cheeks and went spiraling on down to the woodchips below, leaving behind those little lines of weakened paper that she was tearing along.

She cried for what her father had made her do. The things she had done, and kept doing, and would keep doing for as long as he demanded it. She couldn’t stop, any more than her tears could fall upwards. She’d had to touch the minds of all those people. She had to make them see things that weren’t there, hear things they never wanted to hear again. She had to make them do all sorts of terrible things. Things that shouldn’t be done, not ever. She had to stand there in the sky as people saw what she had to do, and she had to stand there in the sky as they hated her and feared her.. She had to listen to the things that they called her. Had to play the part that her father wanted her to play. Had to feel the hateful curse of the name the world had given her.

Hopeslayer.

She let a pained sob loose into the empty evening air. She was sorry! She hadn’t wanted to! She couldn’t…she wasn’t…

She knew what she was. She could still see herself, her other self, her real self, not paper but porcelain, wings drifting in lazy, cruel arcs around her.. A monster, unearthly, unwanted. Something to be feared, to be fought. Her little paper self wasn’t even really her. She was folded together out of all the things that she’d seen in people’s heads, all the sorrows and regrets and apologies and anguishes she had drawn on to make them cruel and cold. When all of the tears had fallen, her little saturated paper self would fall apart again, and she would be the monster.

She had two brothers, and neither one had to deal with anything like this. They were empty inside. Nothing but empty, powerful shells, dancing to the tune of their orders with no thought whatsoever. They didn’t even have this.

Was that better? Was that worse?

The girl couldn’t answer that. She could feel it already, her tiny vessel tearing at the seams. Soon, she would work through all the thoughts and feelings in her big, evil, awful body, and then she’d vanish. No more. No more feelings. Just empty, like her brothers.

Would she get to exist again as the paper doll the next time she did something horrible? Was it worth it, existing on the shoulders of all that pain?

The sky was turning a golden-red color, the sun glinting gold between the tall steel-glass towers of the city. The shadows stretched long, the air cooling and chilling the tear-tracks down her face. Tiny bugs began to drift out of the bushes, blinking their summery lights to one another. The girl couldn’t see how much time she had left. She just sat there and cried, for herself, for her brothers, for a country wiped from existence. The trees in the park rustled slightly, in the breeze. On the edge of the park, a car rolled by, a rumbling metal rush to be anywhere else. More cars would follow, people heading to their homes, to their friends, to late-night jobs, to nights in and nights out.

If she came here, there wouldn’t be any of that. The trees would burn. The cars would stop. The people would head to their loved ones and their friends looking to kill or be killed

If her brothers came here, it might even be worse.

“Hi!”

The Simurgh looked up. Standing across from her in the park was a girl, about the same age as her little paper doll. The other girl had on a pretty little dress that was a little bit torn and a little bit green from the grass and a little bit brown from the mud and a little bit red from a scrape. She had pretty dark hair that danced around her head and flowed past her shoulders and rustled in the breeze like the trees did. She had eyes that sparkled and laughed and bubbled with intelligence. She had a mouth that radiated happiness, beaming like a beautiful spotlight for the best parts of the universe. Her sandaled feet were full of wood chips. Her lungs were empty of breath after spending the day running and jumping and playing. Optimism and happiness poured off of her in waves.

The Simurgh’s tears redoubled.She would ask how many little girls like this she’d twisted and broken, but she knew the answer. She knew exactly how many little girls it was. She had every one of their faces etched into her mind, every one of their sadnesses carved into her heart.

“Ah! Don’t cry! Here, come play tag with me. My mom fell asleep so I can stay, even though it's already my bedtime!” The girl was tugging her off the swingset, pulling the Simurgh towards the rest of the playground with one hand. She chattered happily and thoughtlessly away about tag and how to play and all the best places to jump off of the playground to get away from people.

The Simurgh could lose herself in the chatter. She could feel all the misery and awfulness and guilt slowly wash away in the face of unrelenting positivity.

She wiped her eyes and played tag. She ran after the girl, and the girl ran after her, and sometimes they both ran after each other, and sometimes they both ran away from each other. They leapt off of the platforms on the playground, and they went down the slide, and they pushed each other on the swings, and the girl showed the Simurgh how the tire swing worked, and they spun around in circles, and the Simurgh got woodchips in her mouth when she fell, and the girl giggled as she pulled the Simurgh to her feet. The Simurgh giggled back.

Giggling was nice.

A tall woman with even prettier dark dancing hair watched them from a bench behind half lidded eyes, feigning sleep. The stars had already started showing when she called out, “Alright, sweetie, time to go!”

The girl turned to the Simurgh.

“I’m Taylor.”

“S-Si-Sylvie.”

Taylor glomped her with a hug. “It was fun playing with you. Don’t be so sad, okay?”

“O-okay.”

“I’ll come play with you again if you are, okay?”

“I-I’d like that.”

Taylor smiled and the Simurgh- Sylvie- could feel a little bit of happiness echo inside her horrible, empty self.

Taylor ran to her mother, and she waved at Sylvie as she left. Sylvie waved back.

She could feel herself being torn apart as she waved. She was out of time.

Maybe…maybe she would see Taylor again?

The Hopeslayer could only hope.

\---------------

Sylvie existed again.

It took her a moment to realize it. The sudden feeling of wind in her hair, woodchips under her toes, sun on her skin. The feeling of awareness, the sudden rush of consciousness flooding in, the heady feeling of being able to feel at all.

Then her awareness was flooded with the knowledge of why she was able to exist again. The feeling of thousands dead and a thousand thousands broken and a thousand thousand thousands whispering fearfully to each other in her wake. She felt sick. So many people dead, and for scant hours of her getting to think and feel like they got to every day?

She wanted to puke.

Her stomach twisted and roiled in her. Tears threatened to leak from her eyes. She- She couldn’t-

Taylor. A sun, pure happiness, boiling away all of the misery she’d been steeped in. She just had to see Taylor and she’d feel better.

She’d promised, hadn’t she?

Sylvie Looked. She Saw herself running down this street first, then that street, then this, then that, then she was running, following the path in her mind of the future she wanted.

Her legs ate up the distance at a surprising pace, her height cast into stark relief in her mind. Her hair flowed out behind her like a cape, longer by far than when she had played tag in the park.

Was she older now?

Was Taylor older now?

She didn’t Look.

She did Look at the house.

It looked old, but not as old as it could look. Someone had spent long hours in the yard, trimming back the bush out front so it didn’t explode all over the sidewalk, pulling weeds out of the lawn, pruning the small tree. Someone had run a hasty paint job on part of the wall, a scab of slightly fresher color covering an old wound. Someone had almost-but-not quite scrubbed a series of scuff marks off the door.

She Saw herself walk up to the door. She Saw herself knock.

She didn’t See what happened next. She didn’t want to. This was Taylor’s house, but

did Taylor remember her? Had it been too long? Would she be angry if Sylvie just showed up on her doorstep? Would she not want to be friends, would she tell Sylvie to go die like all those people did like she deserves like the hollow monster in the sky who loomed over whose Sight she Saw and who was her but strange and hollow except so was she and-

She couldn’t even Look. Looking would be the same as doing it, because then she’d know if Taylor hated her and she didn’t want to see that, didn’t want to see even the barest glimmer of that bubbly happy face contorted in anger and hate at who she is at what she is.

And the door was opening oh god the door was opening and are those tears oh god those are tears she told her she wouldn’t be sad anymore she broke her promise she hates her no no nonono don’t look don’t think just run oh god no

Sylvie blinked.

Taylor had wrapped around her in a hug. She smelled like a library. Like she’d spent all day surrounded by books and books and books. And under that, some fruity shampoo of some sort? And her hair was still so pretty. And she was taller, too!

There was a moment of silence, where Sylvie’s heart slowed by degrees and the tears stopped leaking from her eyes.

Taylor pulled away from the hug, and Sylvie’s arms returned to her sides. They didn’t want to stay there very much, instead opting to clasp her hands together and then start twisting her fingers around over one another while she tried to figure out what she was going to say. What was she going to say? She’d just shown up out of nowhere, crying on her doorstep. What would Taylor even think about that?

Taylor smiled. “Come on! Mom was about to start making cookies. You can help us!”

Sylvie let Taylor grab her by the wrist and drag her inside. She noted the comfy-looking armchairs nestled by the front windows, one of which had a hastily-paused book sitting tentlike on the armrest. She noted the old-looking monster of a TV sitting on a small table which was clearly not originally meant for TVs. She noted the well-worn and lightly patched couch which looked like a fluffy monster of a thing. And then they were through a door and another door and there was the kitchen, the tall pretty lady laying out bags of flour and sugar and chocolate chips and a carton of eggs and a jug of milk and a big mixing bowl and measuring cups and a mixer and a baking sheet which she was spraying with something and the oven beeped and Sylvie blinked.

“Oh, Taylor, you didn’t tell me you had a friend coming over.” The pretty lady- Taylor’s mom- said. Faint surprise flickered on Taylor’s mom’s face.

“But it’s okay, right mom?” Taylor looked up at her mom with wide, innocent eyes.

A smile danced across Taylor’s mom’s lips. “Of course.” She turned to Sylvie. “Have you ever made cookies before?”

Sylvie shook her head. She’d never even had cookies before.

“Well here, hop up on this chair and start measuring out the flour. Here, you’re going to want the cup with the one third on it, since it’s easier to…”

Sylvie measured out the flour, and Taylor melted the butter, and Taylor’s mom cracked some eggs, and they poured different things into the mixing bowl one at a time, and Taylor’s mom let them smell the vanilla which smelled wonderful but warned them that it didn’t taste anywhere near as good as it smelled. Taylor licked a little bit off of the teaspoon when her mom wasn’t looking and declared it gross, and offered the teaspoon to Sylvie afterwards and Sylvie agreed. The eggs vanished into the powdery mixture in the bowl and then were joined by the milk making the whole thing gooey. Then they slowly got the chocolate chips spread through the gooey doughy not-yet-cookie stuff, and they started loading up the cookie sheet with globs. Taylor wanted to also make one really big cookie, so she mashed two or three globs together into a bigger glob and put that in the center of the sheet.

Then the whole thing vanished into the oven and they all sat around the kitchen and Taylor started talking about this really neat book she was reading and her mom kept bringing up neat things about it and talking about archetypes and stereotypes and all kinds of types and the air smelled like cookies and Sylvie started putting mixing stuff and bowls and measuring cups into the sink.

And then the cookies were done! Taylor stuffed one in her mouth straight off the sheet and drank a whole glass of milk because it was so hot and they fell over each other laughing at her milk mustache so Sylvie also stuffed a cookie in her mouth and drank a whole glass of milk and that just made it funnier.

Sylvie had to leave after that though. She didn’t want to, but she was pretty sure she was going to disappear soon since she had existed for almost as long as she did before and she could feel herself tearing a little. Taylor asked if she wanted to spend the night and Sylvie did want to, even though she didn’t want to just vanish in front of Taylor like that, so she didn’t leave and instead Looked to see how she could spend the night (without Looking at Taylor because that would be rude and also not a friend thing to do). She said some things about her parents to Taylor’s mom and Taylor’s mom said that it would be alright with her and Taylor yelled, “Yay!”

As it turned out, Sylvie didn’t vanish.

When night fell, Sylvie was on Taylor’s bed warm and snug, and Taylor was digging a sleeping bag out of her closet and making a lot of noise.

Sylvie had never slept before.

She Looked, and she saw nightmares. Ugly, horrible, angry, mean nightmares roaring back at her about all the people she’s killed and how awful she was and how she killed Hope which was a wonderful thing and that she should go die.

So instead she dragged Taylor out of her closet. And she said it was okay if Taylor just slept in the bed too.

Taylor looked her in the eyes, and then nodded.

Sylvie fell asleep with Taylor’s face next to her and leaking happiness into her dreams.

She didn’t have any nightmares.

\---------------

Sylvie sat on a swingset.

Another chance to exist. There wasn’t any time to waste. Something about not existing had been bearable this time, some echo of Taylor’s optimism and happiness had managed to reach her even while she wasn’t.

She had to see Taylor again. Had to thank her, had to feel that warmth again, had to.

But wasn’t having to do things what her shell was about? She didn’t have to see Taylor. She could go do anything she wanted to! She could…

Sylvie kicked out her legs, and the swing she was seated on drifted backwards. She leaned into the swing, moving with it, rocking just a little further forward this time. She kept moving with the swing’s motion, back and forth, back and forth, building momentum, swinging higher, higher, ever higher. She got to choose to go higher, now. Her shell-self had to fly, but she could choose to fly! If she wanted to, she could let go right now-

Sylvie tumbled through the woodchips and wound up on her back, looking at the sky that didn’t trap her anymore. Her hair, unlike the statuesque mass of her shell, was splayed all over and strewn with bits of wood that would take forever to get out. She’d torn her dress, and scraped her knee, and she could feel all kinds of little aches on her back and her arms and her legs and her head. It was wonderful.

The shell couldn’t feel, couldn’t choose. But she could, when she existed. She could hurt, she could run and jump and climb and laugh and eat and drink and sleep. She didn’t even have to see Taylor! She didn’t have to, she wanted to.

It was a huge difference, and Sylvie began giggling, still lying in the woodchips.

She got to choose! She Looked, but instead of steering herself towards one future, she changed her mind at random, watching the infinite possibilities roll out in front of her. And she could use any one of them! An entire overwhelmingly wonderful infinity of choices!

She really did want to see Taylor, though.

A quick Look, just enough to see where she was, and Sylvie was off! Except…she didn’t have to run, either. She could walk, enjoy the city, and the sun, and the sounds, and the people.

How long did she have, anyway?

 

A Look. A week? She…she got to exist for a whole week? She could do all kinds of things in a week! She could lie down on grass, and climb trees, and find flowers…

She’d thought her possibilities before were infinite. Now she had seven intoxicatingly wonderfully incredibly beautifully even more infinite whole entire days to spend.

Sylvie slowed as the area around her transitioned into pretty, expensive looking shops. Beautiful dresses beckoned to her from windows. Bags of jewelry and shoes were lugged around by well-dressed boyfriends. Gaggles of teens meandered by drinking cold milkshakes.

For a moment, Sylvie regarded her own scuffed, dirt-smudged, lightly torn dress. Her sandals were full of woodchips from the playground still. Running a hand through her hair, she found more woodchips still stubbornly clinging to her tangled locks.

But Taylor was here. Taylor wouldn’t care if she didn’t look like the other people here. Taylor had been nothing but kind and wonderful and happy to her.

A little slower, a little more subdued, Sylvie continued on down the Boardwalk. She shook a couple chips out of her hair.

There! There were only two people with hair like that, hair that flowed in the breeze and spun and danced and laughed like she did. Like she was doing now. Like she was doing with-

With-

With another girl, one with red hair, eyes sparkling in the sun. She moved with a sort of natural grace, twirling with a bag of something-or-other as she laughed at something Taylor had said. She was wearing a blouse which hugged a body which was in the process of developing and doing a good job of it. Her lips were a sort of lip glossy pink, and she was laughing, and she was with Taylor.

Stylish blouse. Torn dress. Glossy hair. Frizzy hair. Smooth skin. Scrapes and bruises.

She wasn’t-

She didn’t-

She couldn’t-

She could! She could choose now!

Even if Taylor was…wasn’t…

Oh god were those tears?

Oh god Taylor noticed her.

Oh no no wipe your eyes you have to go you have to-

Hug

Sylvie leaned into the hug and felt herself calming down, like a hundred thousand million other hugs in other places with Taylor. Hugging Taylor was nice. It was safe and warm and felt right.

The girl with the red hair was coming up behind Taylor now. It took a moment for Sylvie to place the look on her face as somewhere between confusion and disdain. A strangely tyrannical look.

“Who’s this, Taylor?” The girl said, with all of the sweetness and grace it took for it to sound like, “Who the fuck are you?”

Taylor pulled back from the hug. “This is Sylvie, Emma. I’ve told you about her before, right? I can’t believe you haven’t met yet. ”

“Oh?” Emma. Emma asked that ‘Oh?’ so pointedly at Taylor that Sylvie felt it draw blood.

No, wait, those were her fingernails digging into her palm.

“Yeah! I’m sure I’ve told you about her. She’s really cool! C’mon, you wanted to get milkshakes, Sylvie can come too!”

“Yeah, of course! Nice to meet you, Sylvie.” Emma’s words ripped through Sylvie like a hurricane, layers of sarcasm and malice and anger roiling together to pierce her to the bone.

But she had a week with Taylor. A week to explore, to see the city, to spend with Taylor. A whole entire week! Seven whole days! She could do so much in that time that she could…

She could…

But Emma slurped loudly on her milkshake and the train of thought careened off the rails.

A week. A whole week to spend, an entire week where she could-

“I bet you can’t wait for nature camp, right, Taylor?”

The sun, the sea, she could go to the beach and sit with her toes in the sand, bury them, feel the grains between her toes, watch the waves lap at her feet, lean back on the softness of it, listen to the gulls as they cried-

“Wow, Taylor, really? You’re always reading.”

The city, the buildings. She could wander around downtown, feel the cool blasts of air as she transitioned into the interiors of the banks and the department stores and the office lobbies. She would be able to listen to the bustle of humanity as they drove and walked and talk-

“See, you just need to try some better clothes on. I keep telling you to, don’t I?”

The forest, the trees, she could just climb a tree and sip on a milkshake like the one she had in her hand right now, condensation making her hand cold and damp, vanilla spreading across her tongue, the feeling of the chilled beverage soaking down into her like the warm feeling she got whenever Taylor had smiled at something she’d said. She could bring Taylor up there with her, and birds would come by to see what the girls would be doing in their tree, but they wouldn’t care, because the birds were pretty and quiet and questioning and harmless, and they were so happy to be sharing this moment in the speckled shade of the summertime.

At some point, Emma and Taylor left, and Sylvie found herself wandering cool streets in the evening light. She made her way up a hill, looking at the sunset’s glow. She held up a lock of fairly frazzled hair to the light, watching as the blonde became red with the help of the sun, how all it took was a little time, and maybe a new dress if she could get herself one, to make her just as pretty as Emma.

Sylvie stood. She had a week to experience.


	2. Chapter 2

Sylvie looked up at the building in front of her, and didn’t See. She had very carefully made sure that she wouldn’t See today whenever she Looked. She wanted it to be a surprise.

It had been wonderful, existing for longer and longer each time. She’d gotten to do so many things lately. This time was special though, because this time it was going to stick. She couldn’t See herself vanish at any point in the future. None! She got to stay! And she also got to do something she had wanted to do for a long time.

Sylvie was going to school! With Taylor!

Taylor hadn’t told her much about what school was like, but whenever Sylvie watched TV through someone’s window, or listened to the other young people playing down at the beach, or read about it in books she managed to snag from bargain bins, it always seemed like so much fun! She hadn’t wanted to go if she wasn’t going to enjoy the full experience, but now that she was going to stay?

Careful use of telekinesis had slipped the proper forms into place to get her enrolled. More careful telekinesis had put her in the same classes as Taylor. Sylvie adjusted her dress. It still had a mudstain on it from when she had found a mud puddle this morning and jumped in it to feel the mud on her toes, even though she’d washed the mud off her feet afterward in the ocean. And it was a little frayed, because it was still the same one she’d been wearing when she’d popped into being in the playground. It looked like it did the very first time, new size notwithstanding. It was really nice that it fit her as a teen just as well as it did when she was a kid. She really liked it, and even though Taylor had tried to get her to try on new clothes and shoes and stuff sometimes, she still liked her dress. It was hers.

Winslow was very big, and also very brick. It was made of brick, but it also looked like a brick, in that it was very rectangular and very stark and very brick-colored and had very few windows. Although Sylvie supposed it was true that most bricks had no windows at all. There were some steps that led up to the front door, which was big and a little round and was also made of two half-doors. It hadn’t really occurred to Sylvie just how big school was.

Good thing she was in Taylor’s classes. It would probably be really scary to be in such a big place alone.

Other teens were starting to shuffle into Winslow, now, moving past her and into the building, laughing and joking with each other. Sylvie saw teens wearing nice clothes, and teens wearing beat-up t-shirts, and teens wearing green and red bandannas, and teens with long hair and teens with dark hair and teens with curly hair, but she didn’t see anyone with long dark curly hair that danced. Maybe it would be better if she just waited for Taylor inside.

Sylvie pushed open one half-door and let herself flow in with the rest of the people all heading in. The tile floors were kind of cold under her feet, and the lights were a little bit eye-hurty and flickery, and holy wow that was a lot of people. People everywhere, talking and moving around and slinging backpacks over their shoulders and pushing each other and gossiping to each other. They were dressed in hoodies and jeans and t-shirts and spaghetti straps and flannel and polo shirts and jogging pants and khakis and skirts. They looked at her as she passed by, and their eyes were brown and green and blue and grey.

But! Sylvie knew where she was going, and ignored the people looking her way. None of them were Taylor. Taylor was special. Taylor was what mattered here. She was going to spend a year, a whole entire wonderful year with Taylor, and all these other students could go die in a fire or whatever.

Whispers began to drift their way over the the halls, little things, carrying inconsequential gossip-charges as she passed. Sylvie clenched her fists and closed her ears. She wasn’t going to Look at what they were saying, she wasn’t going to listen to what they were saying, and she really really wasn’t going to care about what they were saying. Part of going to school with Taylor was being normal. Once she started Seeing, she might See Taylor, and that would ruin a moment they might have had together! She couldn’t have that. Sylvie was normal now, a normal girl going to a normal school in a normal city. With normal hands and normal feet. Even if she didn’t have any normal shoes with her.

Sylvie walked along the hall, a line of graffiti-stained lockers in drab olive-green giving way to graffiti-stained walls. Enterprising students had taken scotch tape and printer paper and plastered posters and fliers all along the way. Here was an ad for some student band, and five more papers like it where the poster had gotten bored. There was a call for student council representatives, torn in half and scribbled over in sharpie. There was a gang tag sprayed over a series of posters boldly declaring, “If You See Something, Say Something”. Sylvie wasn’t going to be Seeing anything, though, so she didn’t have to worry about Saying anything.

There were classrooms here, too, but they weren’t the right ones. Where were the stairs? They should have been down that hallway, shouldn’t they? Sylvie didn’t want to Look to see where she would go, but she also didn’t want to be lost. Ah! There, a staircase! Now, she just had to go up to the second floor to find the room she needed.

The stairwell smelled like smoke. There was a forgotten cigarette butt in one corner. Sylvie held her breath.

Wait, this didn’t look like the right part of the second floor. And the room wasn’t here either. Were there two second floors? That didn’t make sense. The school was shaped like a brick, it didn’t need to be divided in two. Was she on the wrong floor? Was it supposed to be the third floor? It wouldn’t hurt to check, Sylvie supposed.

Several minutes after the bell had rung, Sylvie found herself stepping into the right classroom. She found the hallways were much more pleasant when they weren’t full of people. The tiles were still cracked, the lights would still flicker, the paint would still peel, but at least it was quiet and she didn’t have to worry about bumping into people.

The classroom itself didn’t look much better, but the posters of various politicians from years past on the walls helped a little. Twenty-some students were all bored already, eyes down at the syllabus sheets on their desk or roaming aimlessly over the posters on the walls or staring half-lidded at the board, watching the teacher talk about how her US History class was going to work. One or two students were staring out the windows. And…yes! There was Taylor!Staring at a notebook and not looking at Sylvie just yet, but that was fine. There was an open seat next to her!

It was only after Sylvie confirmed Taylor’s presence that she noted that the teacher had paused in her lecturing. The woman was very large around, and loomed impressively for being a little on the short side. She had a strict voice that sounded like it would expressed opinions loudly and with gusto, with very little care who heard. Her eyes slowly appraised Sylvie, judging just what sort of student had just staggered in late. They settled first on the mudstain on her dress, then on her bare feet, then rose up to look at her face.

“Where are your shoes, young lady?”

Sylvie blinked. That was not a question she had been expecting.

“I…shoes?”

“Shoes, young lady. And that dress is filthy.”

“I…guess it is?” Sylvie felt like she was losing this conversation somehow, even though Taylor had told her you don’t win or lose conversations.

The teacher blinked at her, and a long moment passed while the students and the teacher and Taylor-Taylor!-stared at her, until the teacher looked startled for a moment and pulled a sheet of paper off her desk.

“Are you…Sylvia Davidson?”

“Yes!” There was a question she could answer!

“Ah.” The teacher gave a sage nod. “I am Mrs. Harris. Take a seat.”

Sylvie, released, practically ran to sit next to Taylor. The teacher went back to talking, but all Sylvie could do was smile at Taylor and scoot her desk a little closer.

“What…why are you here?”

Sylvie just grinned. “I finally got into this school! We’ve even got all the same classes and everything, isn’t that great?”

“I…I didn’t think you went to school at all, actually.”

“I didn’t! But I do now.”

“That’s…are you going to be okay with the work? Do you know any of the material?”

“You can help me, right?”

Taylor looked at Sylvie for a long moment. Her expression was…a lot harder than Sylvie was really used to. Did she do something wrong? She didn’t want to make Taylor upset. Taylor was so sweet and caring and wonderful she didn’t deserve to be sad!

Sylvie’s smile slowly started to become strained. Should…should she go? She knew she couldn’t really spend all the time she was around with Taylor, and she didn’t, but she’d thought that maybe now that she was around all the time she could be with Taylor more.It had just never occurred to her to wonder if that would actually be okay.

The moment passed, though, and Taylor’s expression softened. There was the smile, a little thinner, maybe, but it was there and it was a start and Sylvie was going to make this the best school year ever!

“I…yeah, of course I’ll help you out, Sylvie. It’ll be…nice…to have you around.”

Sylvie was about to say something when Taylor got a faraway look and said something else.

“But…if I tell you to go and meet me at my next class, do it, okay?”

There was no hesitation. “We’re best friends, Taylor! Of course I will.”

Did…did that make Taylor sad? Sylvie panicked for a moment. Did Taylor not think of her as a best friend? Did Taylor not think she was a friend at all? Were those tears? Oh no oh no oh no-

Taylor wiped her eyes on the sleeve of her hoodie. She smiled at Sylvie, a little sad in a weird way that Sylvie didn’t really know how to deal with. “Yeah, best friends.”

Sylvie just smiled back. It seemed like the best friend thing to do.

The teacher continued to drone in the background for over an hour, but that was fine because it gave Sylvie a chance to cheer Taylor up, like, really cheer her up. She poked her and whispered jokes and passed a sheet of paper back and forth and played the game where each person added a line at a time until they had a picture and then did it again because it had barely taken five minutes to make the first weird fish-thing. Taylor slowly got a little happier, then a little happier again, until it seemed like she’d forgotten whatever it had been that bothered her so much. Which was good, even when the teacher yelled at them because they started giggling too loud at Taylor’s joke.

The bell rang and Sylvie almost jumped out of her seat. That was loud! Taylor stood, and Sylvie stood with her, and they started filing out of the classroom with everyone else.

Everything would have been normal, except that the teacher, Mrs. Harris, called out to her as she left. “Sylvia, come see me after school.” That was probably bad, given what she knew about schools, but so long as the teacher wasn’t going to suspend her or something it was probably fine.

The hallways were much better now that she wasn’t wandering through them alone. Taylor knew where to go. Sylvie could just follow and chatter happily about the bird she saw that morning or the mud puddle she jumped into or the book she read and Taylor would talk back a little and all the other students were staring because they were jealous, yeah, they were jealous of how great friends she was with Taylor. Well, those jerks couldn’t have her. Taylor didn’t deserve people who would whisper mean things to each other when someone passed them in the halls.

Taylor put a hand in front of Sylvie, and Sylvie skidded to a halt. “Sylvie, go and meet at my next class. It’s just down that hallway and up the stairs.”

Sylvie blinked in shock, then turned to look at Taylor, questions in her eyes. What had changed? Why did Taylor want her to go ahead? Why did Taylor’s face look so grim?

Slowly, Sylvie started inching away from Taylor, and then Taylor looked at her with pleading eyes and she looked so scared and forlorn that instead of going away like Taylor wanted her to Sylvie grabbed her and hugged her tight.

Taylor went stiff. She’d never gone stiff when she was hugged before. Why? Why was Taylor so much more sad now? Taylor shouldn’t be sad. Taylor was too nice to be sad.

Then a voice came out, cruel and ringing and worst of all familiar. A voice that was so pretty it made her want to puke.

“Oh, hey, Taylor. Didn’t see you there.”

Emma.

Sylvie pulled away from the hug to glare at the redhead. She was flanked on either side by a short girl with pale skin and an athletic girl with dark skin. Emma gave a little nod, and more girls flooded out from behind the trio, forming an inescapable wall of teenagers around the two of them.

And Taylor had…shrunk back a little. What?

Emma looked at Sylvie, and then she grinned. “Oh my god. Gutter rat? Is that you? You drag your little homeless ass back out here to mooch off of Taylor again?”

Gutter rat? Sylvie’s fists clenched. The other girls all seemed a little surprised that Emma had addressed her, but Sylvie only had eyes for the awful bitch who would call her a gutter rat in front of Taylor! They were supposed to act like friends in front of her! And glare at each other over milkshakes! And try to take the seat next to Taylor at fast food places! Not open insults, Taylor would realize!

“I can’t believe it, Taylor, were you so desperate for friends that you had to go dig one out of the trash?”

Sylvie’s line of thought came to a screeching halt. Emma had just insulted Taylor? What was…how was…that wasn’t right. The world was not supposed to work that way.

The short girl echoed Emma. “Yeah, I can smell dumpster all the way from here.” The crowd tittered. The dark-skinned girl stood there impassively. Taylor shrank back again.

“I think it’s both of them!” came a voice somewhere in the crowd.

Sylvie could feel it. Anger, red-hot, blazing away somewhere in her chest. Burning, roaring at what they were doing. They were insulting Taylor! The…the nicest, the sweetest, the best friend, the best…no! They didn’t get to insult Taylor! The anger crackled and flared and was new and intoxicating and powerful and Sylvie took one dangerous step towards Emma.

Taylor had grabbed her hand at some point, but this was more important than that. How could this fucking little devil…just…how?

“Oh look, she’s barefoot! Can’t even find shoes in her dumpster of a home!”

“I can still see stains from the trash on her dress!”

“I bet she got it from her pimp.”

“Nah, she doesn’t get paid, she just does it for food.”

Sylvie glared, hard. She glared with all the glare that she had, with every ounce of monster she could muster, into Emma’s eyes. “You don’t get to insult Taylor.”

Emma’s smirk was as acidic as she was unconvinced by Sylvie’s hatred. “Oh? Don’t I? I think I get to insult her as much as I want. Not as though there’s anything you can do about it, little urchin. Following Taylor around like a lost puppy, begging for scraps.”

“You-”

Sylvie felt a tug on her arm and stopped. Taylor was shaking her head.

She…

She shouldn’t have to see her friends fighting.

Sylvie hugged Taylor again as the insults rained down.

\---------------

Laser-guided missiles had nothing on Sylvie’s focus. Leaning against the grungy, stained wall of the cafeteria, ignoring the smell of piping hot school glop, letting the chatter of relaxing students wash over her, Sylvie’s eyes methodically scanned each doorway. Her target? One particular group of faces.

There!

Emma spotted her as she launched herself from the wall and blazed towards the gaggle of gossiping good-for-nothings. Some guy with a tray full of food was pushed straight past, sending him stumbling, carton of chocolate milk falling to the floor without fanfare. Sylvie paid him no mind. Stomp, stomp, stomp, here comes the fire and fury you little redheaded-

“Oh, gutter rat! How nice of you to show yourself-”

In one clean motion, Sylvie swooped her hands under Emma’s tray, sending coleslaw and corn spiraling high into the air. Emma’s shocked expression stayed unchanged even as a carton of milk bounced off of her head and into the face of some tiny hanger-on.

“I don’t know why you’re being so mean to Taylor, but you’re going to stop.”

Emma’s shock morphed into a cruel grin, and crueler laughter.

“Listen, gutter rat. I don’t know if your tiny rat-brain will be able to remember this, but my dad is a lawyer. Sophia here,” Emma gestured to the athletic girl at her side, “is a track star. You? You’re nothing. Nobody cares about you.”

“Taylor cares about me!” Sylvie punctuated her words with a shove, one which Emma took in stride.

“Taylor feels sorry for you, gutter rat. She doesn’t actually care. Why don’t you go running back to the sewers where you live, instead of sticking around here where everyone can smell you?”

The other girls took this as open season to let loose their own insults, but Sylvie only had eyes for that awful bitch who had dared to say that Taylor didn’t care about her.

“You don’t have a fucking clue how Taylor feels! You don’t even really know her!”

Emma raised a hand, and her followers quieted down. “Oh, don’t I, gutter rat? Was it you who Taylor talked to when she was bawling her eyes out after her mom died? Was it you who Taylor confessed to about wetting the bed? Face it, you piece of trash, if Taylor really cared about you she would have gone looking for you in your little dumpster, wouldn’t she?” She punctuated her speech with her normal little triumphant flip of her hair.

Sylvie’s rage forced her to choke her next words out between her teeth. “I wasn’t around then, so what?”

Emma went for the kill. Sylvie could see her bloody lips forming the words before she heard them hit home with all the mysterious force Emma was able to pack into them. “You weren’t around ever. I know Taylor better than you ever will.”

Emma stepped in close. “I know how weak she is. She’d abandon you in a heartbeat.”

Sylvie almost Screamed.

Then Taylor came into the room, obviously looking for Sylvie. She was already out of the bathroom? With a huff, Sylvie ignored the juice box someone threw and went back to Taylor. Later. Emma was still Taylor’s friend. She couldn’t do anything now, especially not with Taylor around.

\---------------

It was a sticky, soggy Sylvie that staggered into Mrs. Harris’ room at the end of the day. She’d spent all day protecting Taylor. Blocking juice boxes, spitballs, glue. But Taylor was okay, and while her smile had been sad when she left to go home she was still smiling, so Sylvie was okay. Whatever it was the little bitch with the barbed tongue wanted to say, Sylvie knew it would be okay. Taylor cared. Of course she cared!

Taylor had even asked if she’d wanted to stay at her house, which was like the biggest care she could do. Sylvie had, obviously, said yes.But she had to talk to Mrs. Harris first, so she would catch up with Taylor in a bit.

Mrs. Harris looked up from her desk as Sylvie sopped in.

“What happened to you?” There was a degree of shock on her face, but it was outweighed by distaste and confusion.

“Keeping things copacetic.” Taylor loved that word.

Mrs. Harris shook her head. “I won’t ask.”

A moment of silence passed.

“I’ve seen students in your situation before.”

Sylvie blinked.

“My daughter left some clothes behind when she went to college. I can bring some for you tomorrow, so you don’t need to wear that dress again.”

Sylvie toyed with the hem. She liked her dress a lot though, and she could probably get it clean with telekinesis and some soapy water.

But…more clothes would make Taylor happy, and Taylor needed more happy.

“Do you have somewhere to stay?”

Sylvie nodded. “I’m staying with Taylor for now.”

“Alright.”

Another pocket of silence. Were teachers usually this scary? Mrs. Harris was being nice, but it didn’t feel like nice.

“You can go now. I’ll have the clothes for you after school tomorrow.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Harris.”

Sylvie ducked out. Just as well it was quick, more time to relax tonight. Maybe she would walk to the beach before heading back to Taylor’s house. She would enjoy the cool sand beneath her toes, the waves slowly burying them a little at a time, gradual, regular, simple, easy. Water was nice, and so was sand.

Except that before she could leave the school, Sylvie found herself cornered in the stairwell by the dark-skinned girl from Emma’s posse. A sneak attack, coming from behind. Sylvie stood poised to ignore and push past her.

“Hey. C’mon, I wanna talk to you for a sec.”

Sylvie snorted out a quiet, “I‘m busy,” and tried to maneuver around the athlete. A step to the right, but, no, she was already in her way again, without looking like she was getting in her way at all. Frustrating.

The girl shrugged. “You don’t have to be so on edge. You just seemed worth talking to. Name’s Sophia.”

“Well, I don’t think you’re worth talking to, and also, I’m still busy.” Another motion forward, and this time, Sophia took a step away from her in turn. Progress!

“I just wanted to apologize a little for what Ems said earlier. It ain’t something someone like you should have to take, you know?”

Sylvie blinked. “Someone like me?”

“Yeah, someone like you. Tough as nails, surviving like you do.” Sophia’s eyes roved down Sylvie’s threadbare dress and bare feet.

“Like I do?” Sylvie was thoroughly confused by now.

“Yeah, out on the streets. It’s not easy, but here you are, eh? We should meet up sometime after class. I’ve seen my fair share of back alleys myself.”

“We’re meeting up now, though.” It wasn’t exactly the best rebuttal, but it was all Sylvie could get out while she mulled over Sophia’s words. What did she know about back alleys? What was so special about them?

“You’re busy, aren’t you? Not a whole lot of time to talk.”

“Er, yeah.” Sylvie wished she knew exactly what she was busy with. It would make this a lot easier.

“Besides, can’t spend all your time just hanging with that victim, right?”

Sylvie shuddered to a halt. Taylor, a victim? What the hell? “I can spend my time however I damn well please, and yes, I am busy, and I’m going to go.”

“What? You can’t say it’s not boring being around her all the time.”

Sylvie just huffed. This girl was weird, and more importantly, she was saying bad things about Taylor. Why did she even bother trying to talk to her?

“Well, I’ll let you get to it. See you tomorrow?”

“Yeah. See you.” Sylvie tried to spin her words just right to make Sophia know that she never wanted to see her again. Judging by Sophia’s smirk, she failed badly. Judging by the way Sophia half-waved at her as she left, she definitely failed badly. Hmph. She never wanted to talk to that weird girl again if she could help it.

Well.

That girl was one of Emma’s little parasites. And she knew something about back alleys. That didn’t exactly count for nothing. She might be useful. And, in addition to that, she was kind of right. Sylvie couldn’t spend all her time with Taylor. Having another person to talk to, one who could help her get Emma to stop being a terrible awful human being?

That sounded pretty good.

Sylvie left the school and turned towards the beach.


	3. Chapter 3

Sylvie brushed a strand of wet hair out of her eyes and glared at the paper in front of her. The paper, frustratingly, seemed immune to her hate and continued to exist. Worse yet, every one of the math problems on it refused to solve themselves.

She'd been staring at this worksheet for minutes now, whole entire minutes, and was still no closer to figuring out its mysteries.

"So, then I subtract on each side of the equals sign? Or do I divide?"

Taylor scooched over on the bed to peer at the paper. "You subtract first."

"But you said that division comes before subtraction. Please Excuse...um...something something Sally, right?"

"That's a different thing."

Sylvie flopped bonelessly down onto the worksheet, feeling it crinkle in a satisfying sort of way under her face.

Somewhere above her, she heard Taylor remark, "You were the one who said you wanted to be ready for class tomorrow."

"I didn't realize being ready was going to be hard," Sylvie whined into her worksheet.

A moment of silence passed. Sylvie let it, continuing to stay fairly still facedown in her puddle of math. After all, any minute now Taylor would chime in with something jokey or snarky about it. Or at the very least, say something. Taylor was not one for silence, after all.

The moment of silence continued to pass.

A quick peek up from her worksheet revealed Taylor was just sitting there on the bed, not up to much at all, really. Just staring off into empty space.

"Um, hey Taylor?" Sylvie said, propping herself up on her elbows.

"Yeah?"

Another moment passed as Sylvie considered her next words. It was true that Taylor had seemed a little off at school, just a little, just a tiny bit, maybe. It wasn’t exactly easy to tell without Looking, as Sylvie’s memories were still full of hating Emma, but...

"Are you okay?"

Taylor turned to look at her with empty eyes. "I'm fine."

Sylvie's next words died in her throat as Taylor continued to look at her, with a very distinct lack of any expression on her face. She was still dressed in the lightly stained, amorphous, fairly ugly sweater that she'd worn to school. One that she absolutely would not have allowed Sylvie to wear under any circumstances. Her glasses were a little crooked. Her hair was a little messy.

Taylor loves her hair.

“Oh. Okay.” Sylvie looked closer. Where were the bubbles? Where was the smiling? What had happened to all the chattering, and the book-reading, and the Alexandria bedsheets?

These bedsheets were a sensible, plain, unassuming white. Her stuffed animals were locked away in a closet somewhere. There were no posters of books or movies or capes on the walls, no toys left lying on the floor. The books neatly arranged on her bookshelf had boring titles. Biographies, histories. No fantasy, no romance.

“It’s just, you were a little quiet at school.”

“Was I?”

Emma poured juice over Taylor’s hair, and Taylor stayed totally silent. Some girl elbowed Taylor in the stomach, and Taylor stayed totally silent. Sylvie made a joke, and Taylor stayed totally silent.

“You were, a little. Um.”

The um hung there in the air above Sylvie’s head. She didn’t really know where to go from here. There was a sort of tension, and Sylvie didn’t really understand why it was there or why all of the sudden it had started being so hard to talk to Taylor.

"I just want to make sure that you're okay, because you keep doing things that seem sort of not okay, and-"

Taylor cut her off. "Sylvie, I'm fine. We haven't seen each other in a while. That’s all."

Sylvie gulped, and pulled herself upright. Taylor wasn’t telling her! "No, but, at school, you were all quiet and Emma-"

Taylor's fist was clenched, and shaking slightly. "Sylvie. Stop."

Sylvie stopped.

\---------------

Sylvie found that Taylor was even more quiet to her at school the next day, and it didn't seem like she could really change that no matter what she said. Her worst fears were confirmed around lunchtime, when Taylor told her that she was going to eat in the bathroom. Alone.

It was a very dejected girl dressed in borrowed clothes who made her way into the cafeteria to collect her free lunch for the day. One scoop of icky food-mush, all ready to be shoved into some lucky student’s throat. Lucky students who were absolutely staring at her as she stood in the lunch line, alone and exposed.

Were those insults she heard drifting across the ambient chatter? Snide remarks about her clothes, about the shoes she didn't have? Was that girl waving her hand in front of her face like she smelled something, or was there a bug in the room? Sylvie had definitely bathed last night, she was absolutely sure she wouldn't smell like anything except salt-water.

Well, there was a mostly empty table right over there. An entirely empty one, actually, as soon as she sat down. It probably had been an insult.

Plastic spoon into the mush, plastic spoon into- into her- into her mouth- why did it keep sliding off? What kind of food even was this? She poked it a bit, warily, and watched it jiggle for a moment, then dug her spoon into it again. It was probably food. Other people were eating it. Even if it was sort of slippery, in a way that food wasn’t supposed to be. And a little blobby, in a way food wasn’t supposed to be. Potato salad didn’t even make sense as a food! Salads were for lettuce! And croutons! Sylvie huffed. Maybe if she could get under it properly she could lift it up in one big scoop...

Were people staring at her? People were definitely staring, and the spoon was bending, and she still couldn't get anything to work and she couldn't figure out how anything worked and how come nothing was ever just simple why couldn't she just eat her almost-salad and be friends with Taylor and Emma would move to someplace awful like Lyon and she would have Taylor all to herself and everything could just work!

The spoon, having taken about as much punishment as a plastic cafeteria spoon could take, sprang upright with a loud twang, sending a large glob of unidentified flying salad soaring through the air, right past a certain athletic girl.

A certain athletic girl walking towards her table.

Sylvie did not need this right now.

Sophia took the seat across from her and gulped down a spoonful of meal-gunk in one easy, graceful scoop. Sylvie sneered. Now was not the time to try and unravel Sophia's weirdness, it wasn't even the time to unravel Taylor's weirdness! It was time to eat. Alone. Something which she was failing to do.

"Hey."

Sylvie stabbed the slightly smaller mound of goop with her spoon once more. She knew how to eat goop! She could eat goop all damn day if the stupid spoon just did its dumb job for once in its miserable existence.

"Hey. Anybody home?"

The next time she was a monster she was absolutely going to attack some kind of plastic spoon manufacturing plant, dad be damned. This was a travesty of the highest order, and deserved an appropriate amount of vengeance. The sort of vengeance that involved screaming, and insanity, and a whole lot of spoons getting ripped apart with invisible mind-fingers.

Her fantasies of fire and flames were dispelled by a flick to the forehead.

"That get your attention?"

"What do you want?" Taking a page out of Emma's book, Sylvie tried to spin her words to communicate that any answer other than "Nothing," was completely unacceptable.

"You can't tell me you enjoy playing with your food alone. Second thoughts about ditching the loser?"

"I did not ditch Taylor." Sylvie spat in a metaphorical sense. For good measure, she followed it by spitting in a more literal sense onto the floor.

Sophia shrugged. "Hey, suit yourself.”

Sylvie watched a glob of definitely-not-salad fall slowly off her spoon in slow motion. The spoon was shaking now! That wasn’t even fair!

“You shouldn’t worry about it. Survivors like us oughta stick together, right?"

Sylvie just glared. She was pretty sure by now that glaring wasn't enough to get rid of Sophia, but oh, how wonderful it would be if it did.

"Hey, I haven't even got your name. You know mine already. Only one track star in this shithole."

"Sylvie."

Sophia gave a snerk. "Nah, Sophia. Close, though."

"My name's Sylvie, Sophia." Why don't you take your name and shove it up where the sun doesn’t shine, you sorry excuse for a biped.

"Sylvie, eh? Got a better ring to it than Gutter Rat."

Sylvie gripped her spoon, hard, and dove over the table. This bitch thought she could just sit there and talk shit all day? Well guess what, she had taken enough shit, and she wasn’t about to let something like this go without punishment!

Sylvie then missed, hard, and wound up faceplanting on the other side of the table to a chorus of laughter. School was the worst.

Even that bitch she was trying to stab was laughing and-

-helping her up?

"Sorry, Sylvie, didn't mean it like that. That reaction was the best though! Zero hesitation, just, wham!"

This girl was really, really weird.

\---------------

Sylvie was still in a sour mood when she went down to Mrs. Harris's room to collect the clothes she'd been promised. Slip in quietly, check through the clothes to make sure they're actually wearable, try not to lose another conversation today. Just look through the clothes, super calm, not gripping that one really hard at all, maybe if she was wearing these clothes which were honestly a whole lot nicer than her stupid ratty muddy dress Taylor would be happier and then they could go and punch Emma in the face together and it would be wonderful.

There was a slow creak as Mrs. Harris swiveled slowly on her chair.Her face was set in her signature imperial expression. It had probably gotten stuck that way after governing so many classes full of terrible students.

"Something on your mind, Sylvia?"

Oh no.

Sylvie slowly released her grip on the pink, ruffled dress she'd been holding and gave Mrs. Harris her best not-fake smile. "Of course not!" Yes. That was a cheery tone. Absolutely.

Mrs. Harris's haughty expression morphed slightly, gaining an odd amused twinge to it. Maybe Sylvie wasn't as good at tone as she'd thought.

"I can tell, you know. You're not the first stubborn teen who's lied to me. Not by a long shot."

That...made a lot of sense. Don't lie to teachers, they can smell your fear.

"If you're going through something here, if the other girls are bothering you, you can always talk to a teacher." And that teacher is you. Of course.

"Some girl was talking to me at lunch, and I don't like her. That's it." Whatever. Maybe she'll know why Sophia's weird.

"Oh?" Mrs. Harris arched one eyebrow in the same sort of inevitable way continents moved. "Who was it?"

"Sophia." Sylvie didn't literally spit this time, so she metaphorically spat twice as hard.

"Sophia Hess, the track star? Does no wrong, keeps the peace in these lawless halls?"

Sylvie’s eyes widened at Mrs. Harris’ poisonous tone. This was an incredible discovery! Sylvie could make other people lose in her conversations with Mrs. Harris! Suddenly, talking to teachers became a lot more appealing.

"I've seen girls like her before. Little queen bees, doted on by all the shallow little drones around her. They tend to not go anywhere after high school. Still, no matter how much you don't like her, you probably shouldn't let her know it."

Sylvie blinked. This was not the response she'd been expecting.

"You're going to find people you hate everywhere you go in life, all around you. Better learn to deal with it now, when the stakes are low."

Huh. Sylvie sifted through those words for a moment. Mrs. Harris seemed to be sifting through something of her own, or else she had simply frozen in place under the weight of her own haughty majesty.

"Anyway, you're welcome for the clothes, but I'm not going to sit around in here all night while you poke through them." The sudden statement broke the stillness in the air, and, Mrs. Harris dismounted heavily from her throne, leaving Sylvie behind with a bin full of clothes and a head full of thoughts.

It was a good thirty minutes more before Sylvie finally stood, placed the lid on the bin, and struck out for the Hebert household.

\----------------

Taylor was still very, very quiet the next day, too, although this seemed to be a lot less of the mad quiet that she was before and a lot more of the quiet quiet that she seemed to be doing as her daily routine these days.

Sylvie was pretty sure showing Taylor all of the new clothes she’d gotten from Mrs. Harris had helped with that. Sure, the clothes didn't exactly fit quite right, but they were at least clean and colorful.

Maybe it would help with Taylor's quietness if she could be convinced to wear some more colorful clothes herself. Sitting on the bus like they were, Taylor's nondescript, hide-me-away sweater only served to highlight her more among the various bleary-eyed morning commuters.

Still, though these new clothes were definitely an improvement, there was still one really, really major concern that Sylvie was sure was wearing on Taylor's mood.

Emma.

Sylvie hadn't ever liked her. Always so stuck-up, so interrupt-y, always getting in between herself and Taylor when they were chatting or trying on clothes, and now all her suspicions and hatred were justified.Emma was being a bad friend. A really, truly bad friend. The sort who never deserved to have been friends with someone like Taylor in the first place.

And yet, that having been said, established, and proven solidly to be true, she still was Taylor's friend. So it wasn't as though Sylvie could just do something to her, not without risking making Taylor more quiet.

And it wasn't as though Sylvie could talk to Emma. If Emma had ever listened to a single word she had said, ever, she would go right then and there and punch her brothers in the face. Both of them. As a person..

If only there was a way to try and convince Emma to stop being such an awful human being without having to use powers to do it.

Sophia! Of course! That weird girl hung around Emma a lot, Sylvie was pretty sure, so she would absolutely know how to tell Emma to stop doing what she was doing. And for whatever reason, Sophia wanted to talk to her a whole bunch. This was her chance to talk to Sophia and make things better like normal high schoolers do!

Mrs. Harris really was right about dealing with people you hate, Sylvie decided. It was a necessary thing for getting what you wanted. Maybe having Sophia on her side could even help make Taylor happier. After all, more friends for Taylor would be a good thing, just so long as they knew that Sylvie was Taylor’s best friend.

All she had to do was, ah...

Leave Taylor alone for a bit so she could talk to Sophia in private.

Sylvie grimaced. It was necessary. Taylor's happiness depended on it.It was only for a short while.Taylor wouldn't mind.She had wanted to be alone of her own accord yesterday.

Even if she'd arrived at her next class soaked in cranberry juice.

It wouldn't even be that long. Ten minutes, maybe.

Sylvie turned to Taylor and broke the news, painlessly, quickly. Taylor didn't even have time for her face to fall a little and to quietly say that she understood. And Sylvie definitely didn’t have time to feel absolutely miserable as she clapped Taylor on the shoulder and gave her a cheery thanks. And the plan would go off without a hitch, and Taylor would be happy.

Simple.

\---------------

Sylvie was, once again, meeting with Sophia in a sour mood, although this time she was just sour with herself.

Sophia, on the other hand, seemed anything but sour.

"What's up, Tabby?" Her voice carried with it the sort of assurance that people tended to use when they were absolutely sure they had a great idea.

Sylvie gave her a flat look. She was here for Taylor’s sake, not so that this girl could show off some stupid nickname for her.

Sophia forged ahead, unperturbed. "Get it? Cause you're tough, and you got claws, and you make alleys your bitch."

Sylvie repeated Mrs. Harris' words to herself in her head. It's worth it, it's worth it. "Yeah, I get it."

"Knew you'd like that." Sophia punched her lightly in the arm, and Sylvie let out a breath. She was just in a bad mood because she was leaving Taylor alone. She was overreacting. Taylor would be so much happier once she just got Sophia on her side. It would all be worth it.

"So, what'd you call me out here for?"

"I need you to talk to Emma."

Sophia scoffed. "What, you can't do it yourself?"

Sylvie let out a theatrical, and very true, groan. "That bitch wouldn't listen to what I had to say if I was telling her winning lottery numbers."

Sophia jabbed a finger at Sylvie. "That's my best friend you're talking about." She growled. Sylvie was unimpressed.

"So you know what I'm telling you is true."

Sophia kept scowling for a moment before her expression softened and she leaned back with a little chuckle. "Alright, you got me there. She can be bitchy. So, what's the deal?"

Sylvie could appreciate the bluntness, at least. "The deal is that Emma needs to not be so shitty to Taylor all the time. And tell her that I'll bite her head off if she doesn't quit it."

Sophia gave it a moment’s thought. "Yeah, I can do that. It’s about time Emma quit with the whole crazy focus on her, moved on to someone else.”

Sylvie blinked. “She’s been doing this for a while, hasn’t she?”

“Oh yeah. Pretty much all year.” Sophia shrugged. “A year’s enough.”

Sylvie nodded. She hadn’t even existed for a whole year all together, the thought of spending all that time on being to awful to Taylor was, honestly, unthinkable. One more drop in the Emma-hatred bucket.

“Taylor's fucking boring, anyway."

A flash of anger washed over Sylvie. "Hey, that's my best friend you're talking about."

The words she spoke reached her ears, and Sylvie and Sophia stared at each other a moment. Then Sylvie started giggling, and Sophia followed suit. Echoes. Maybe Sophia was weird, but she wasn't so different, and she wasn’t so bad. And she was useful.

"Oh hey, Tabby, before you go, you want to hit up a movie this weekend? I've been looking forward to it since forever, but Emma's too busy and too squeamish to see it."

Sylvie blinked. "Yeah, sure."

More opportunities to get Sophia on her side and Emma out of the picture. Yeah.

\---------------

The results of her endeavors paid off very quickly. By third period, Emma was already stalking towards her, posse in tow, while Taylor was off getting to her next class.

Sylvie noticed that Sophia wasn't in this particular posse.

"So, Gutter Rat, you think you're clever? Well guess what? Me and Sophia, we see straight through you, you little manipulative bitch."

There was a chorus of insults and affirmations from the posse. Sylvie wondered if they enjoyed serving as human echoes.

"We know what you're doing, we know that you're trying to get back at us. And it won't. Fucking. Work."

Sylvie just stared at her. Apparently she didn't listen to Sophia any more than she listened to her. Was there anyone Emma listened to, or was she so wrapped up in her own mind that she couldn't really hear anything anyone else was saying?

"See, anything you try, we can dish out to you a hundred times worse. And we all know that Taylor's not gonna have your back like Sophia has mine."

That was something Sylvie was not about to let stand unopposed. "Taylor's going to have my back no matter what, Emma!" One day, Sylvie would figure out how to put the spin on her words to make them curse right. Very soon, if she kept getting this much practice.

Somehow, her rebuttal made Emma's face turn redder than her hair. Her posse kept slinging insults like their was no tomorrow, but Sylvie really could care less about that. What was important was that she’d landed a good hit on Emma. Maybe that would be enough. Maybe she’d leave.

Then, Emma's face stopped being so comically angry.

"Well, you want me to let up on the loser so badly? Tomorrow, you're going to get your fucking wish."

With that, she turned on her heel, and left the closing remarks to her most trusted shadows.

Sylvie smirked. She could handle anything they tried, and then some. And then, once they had been shown that she couldn't be beaten, she would cast Emma down from her perch and have Taylor all to herself. And Sophia could stay too, she supposed.

Yes, tomorrow was going to be a good day.


	4. Chapter 4

Sylvie quivered with anticipation as she stepped off the bus. She was ready. Behind her, Taylor was, as usual, not talking. No matter. As soon as she was done taking care of the trash, she could go back to being happy for Taylor and making everything the way it was supposed to be.

Immediately, from the top floor of Winslow, a heavy bottle of grape juice arced perfectly to slam into Sylvie's face.

Sylvie toppled. She hadn't quite been ready for it to start so soon. Her first set of clothes were already irreversibly stained, and she hadn't even taken a step into the school.

But Taylor was there to help her up, so it didn't matter.

Then, another girl, one Sylvie recognized not by name but by her stature, came bounding out of the school doors clutching an old, oily, filthy rag. Sylvie wound up to spit a nice, eloquent, "Fuck off," But before she could the girl had already started going.

"Oh my gosh I am so sorry! Here, let me help." Then, with all the subtlety and tact of a large flying brick in blue spandex, she leapt at Sylvie's face, shoving the rag into it at full force.

Sylvie gagged. It smelled somehow worse than the alleys she'd sometimes slept in. The grease and dirt and muck and worse were mercilessly, viciously scrubbed into her skin until she managed to collect herself enough to shove the short girl away from her.

A gaggle of girls had gathered while she was blinded, apparently.

"Oh my god, she just shoved Madison!"

"She's so violent!"

"Mads was only trying to help, and look at her."

And sure enough, there she was lying on the concrete, clutching one unhurt knee to her chest, gasping with faked pain.

Sylvie shook her head and stormed past, dragging the dumbstruck Taylor with her. She was stronger than this.

Except that then, she was stopped by a teacher. The young and not-at-all-pretty Ms. Barnett stood blocking her path, forming a sneering wall of tie-dye and hoop earrings.

"And where do you think you're going, young lady?"

Sylvie let out the first half of a groan. She didn't have time to deal with-

"No attitude from you. I saw what you did to Madison out there. Now, I want you to go and apologize to the poor girl."

"But-"

"No buts! I don't care how 'disadvantaged' you are, it doesn't excuse behavior like that. Now go apologize."

Sylvie could already hear Emma's ghosts, haunting her, taking 'disadvantaged' and 'violent' and running with them through the school.

Taylor stayed silent.

She had, in fact, shrunk away into the crowd at some point in the last few seconds. Her cotton camouflage served her well, apparently. Sylvie had no idea where she'd gone.

Alone now, Sylvie stalked back over to Madison and pulled her sharply to her feet.

"Sorry." She said. Fuck you, you won't win, she meant.

Madison looked up at her with teary, victorious eyes and limped her way back into the building, cooed over by Ms. Barnett and supported by the ghosts.

Sylvie was left alone on the front steps as the bell for first period rang.

\---------------

Sylvie suffered alone.

Taylor had vanished. Gone since the first bell, as far as she knew. Of course, she didn't know very far, because every class some new plan came down on her.

Some of them even hit home, by virtue of pure scattershot chance. One girl in the halls spat at her, "I bet you wish you had any hope at all," and it was all Sylvie could do to not leap at her then and there. That girl couldn't know, of course, but there were so many insults being flung that it didn't matter. The words still hurt, worse than any loser’s lasers could.

Over and over again, time after time after time, Sylvie found herself in the halls with Taylor nowhere in sight, cornered by Emma's lackeys. Worse, she was finding their handiwork in every distasteful look from a teacher, in every student that turned away from her in the halls.

Her bag had vanished during lunch. Some enterprising evildoer had snatched out from underneath her bench at an empty table when she wasn't looking, and it and everything within were scattered to the winds.

But she still doggedly marched to class. Because she couldn't lose. Because even if Taylor wasn't here by her side right now, no matter why she wasn’t there, as soon as she won Taylor would be back. As soon as she won, Taylor would be hers.

Spitballs in her hair she could deal with. Glue on her seat, she could deal with. She could deal with all of it, even as a tide of cruel teens did everything they could to make her life hell.

Because really, her life was already hell.

What did glue matter? What did juice matter? What did homework or hair or insults matter? She knew who she was. She knew what she did when she wasn't Sylvie, when she didn't get to exist. What mattered was, while she was here, being with Taylor. Everything else could go sit and wait for her other self to come by.

And so it was that fourth period came and went, and, finding herself still furious and still without Taylor, an idea occurred to Sylvie.

She was sure that doing something more drastic about Emma would make Taylor feel worse.

But Mrs. Harris knew more. Mrs. Harris had given her that advice about Sophia that had worked out so well. So if Mrs. Harris thought that it would be better if she just took care of Emma straightforwardly, then there it was. She could do it.

Mrs. Harris looked unsurprised to see Sylvie enter her classroom.

"Yes, Sylvia?"

Sylvie cut straight to the heart of the matter. Mrs. Harris would appreciate bluntness. "There's a girl, who I hate, and another girl, who I like, and I need to know if I should do something about it."

Mrs. Harris stared at her for a moment. "Excuse me?”

Sylvie took a deep breath, and started again.

"Mrs. Harris, there's this girl who I like. A lot. And there's this other girl who I know if I could just get away from the first girl then..." Sylvie wrung her hands. Explaining this was hard, and Mrs. Harris' imperious gaze was much, much harder.

"Sylvia. It sounds like you're trying to get these two apart so you can have the her all to yourself."

"Yeah!" She did get it!

"Don't. It never ends well. You might think that she'd be better off with you, or that she'd be happier, but it doesn't work out that way."

She did not get it.

"Listen, when I was dating my husband, his ex kept trying to break us up, to get him back."

"It only made him go from considering her a friend, to hating her."

Sylvie clenched her fists. Taylor would never!

"What you need to do, Sylvia, is stop focusing on this one girl. It'll lead you to ruining any chance you might have had, nothing more."

"No!"

Sylvie shouted it, nearly Screamed it. Mrs. Harris wasn't wise, she was an old bat sitting there casting judgement on all the little freaks that came under her little pocket of authority. She was a dumb fat bitch and she was wrong!

"Sylvie."

And, if she was so dead-set on Sylvie not doing this, Sylvie was going to go out and do it! It would be for justice, and for love, and for everything that stupid hag on her little stupid throne didn't understand.

"Sylvie! Get back here!"

And as Sylvie stormed her way out of the school, hair still laden with spitballs, her mouth became twisted into a cruel grin. Emma was going to get paid back for today. And for yesterday, and for every day that she'd dared to mess with Taylor, and every last bit of it would be absolutely, wonderfully deserved, and-

Sylvie blinked. Tomorrow was Saturday.

Well, payback would have to wait until Monday, then. Tomorrow she was seeing a movie with Sophia. Which was an important part of tearing Emma down once and for all.

Yes.

Monday. That would be the day.

\---------------

"Sylvie?"

"Yeah, Taylor? What is it?"

"I'm..."

"..."

"I'm sorry about today."

"It's alright. I understand. It'll get better, Taylor, I promise."

"..."

"Good night, Sylvie."

"Good night, Taylor."

\---------------

Sylvie felt the planks of the boardwalk radiating warmth into her bare feet as she sat on the bench, waiting.

Her least worst dress felt heavy; the weather seemed not to have gotten the memo that autumn had arrived.

And Sophia was still not here.

She had been waiting for basically forever, by her count. Sylvie had gotten very good at counting the time passing, since she only had so much of it before she went poof.

Sophia was literally killing her by not showing up on time!

Sylvie tapped her foot impatiently.

It was about then that Sylvie noticed Sophia lightly jogging up the Boardwalk, and quickly leaned back into the bench, the very image of casual devil-may-caredness.

Impatience was for other people, Sylvie tried to say without words. In fact, I probably wouldn't have even noticed if you didn't show up at all, that’s how casual my posture is.

Sophia didn't seem to register this.

"Hey! Sorry I'm running late, mom was bitching at me to bring my little brother."

Sylvie scoffed at that, and Sophia plunked herself down on the bench next to her.

"Right? I'm not using my weekend to babysit that pest."

"Well, good thing you managed to get out of it." Sylvie said, with only a hint of why are we talking about your brother seeping into her voice.

"Probably couldn't even get into the movie if I had to drag him along."

"Yeah." Sylvie really just wanted to move onto something she could properly hold a conversation about. Like how terrible Emma was. Or...hm.

Sophia made a big show of checking her phone.

"Well, we got twenty minutes to kill. Let's hit up a convenience store, sneak some cheap candy past those overcharging douches."

Sylvie stood. Action was good. This bench was terrible. "Sounds alright to me."

It was a pair of very crinkly teenagers who made their way into the movie theater to see the next showing of Drive, and Sylvie was absolutely sure that it was their incredible combined stealth skills that got them in, and not the extremely bored college student who sold them their tickets.

It was all very new to Sylvie. The way that everything looked so fancy and felt so cheap, the way the concession stands dominated the center of the theater hawking their grease-coated wares at overblown prices, the gaggles of other people gossiping over this poster or that movie, the poor parent dragging along more kids than she'd had hours of sleep that night.

Sophia just turned and headed for theater 14 without sparing any of it a second glance.

Sylvie, who hadn't really the foggiest idea what movie she was getting into, paused when she saw the poster of some guy driving a car.

That was really uncreative for a movie called Drive, wasn't it?

What was this movie even about?

"C'mon, we gotta get the good seats!"

Sylvie hurried to catch up to Sophia, who had already made it to the end of the hall.

The movie, it turned out, was about eating Twizzlers and listening to Sophia complain about how the way people on the screen shot each other was totally unrealistic.

Sylvie had to agree. She'd heard plenty of gunshots, and Seen even more, and the noise was totally different.

Then they revealed the guy's Thinker power that let him drive so well, and Sophia exploded. Quietly.

Sylvie listened to a long diatribe about how nobody was doing their jobs in catching this obvious cape and that they should have noticed ages ago and on and on she went. Not that Sylvie felt particularly bad about not hearing what the people on the screen were saying. They weren't nearly as interesting as Sophia's muted yelling was.

She didn't stop until they were well out of the theater, at which point Sophia seemed to register that Sylvie was finding the sky very interesting and changed tacks.

"Sorry bout that Sylvie. That kind of shit just really pisses me off.

Sylvie nodded. She’d figured that out around minute fifteen.

“It's really cool hanging out with you like this."

Sylvie, sensing a chance to make sure she heard no more about that movie, leapt on the opportunity.

"Yeah, I've had a lot of fun so far."

Sophia grinned.

"We really oughta hang more often. Like, Emma's great and all, but she's really..."

Sylvie managed to grasp at least fifteen unflattering words before Sophia found hers.

"Overbearing, sometimes."

Sylvie nodded. That was certainly one of her many flaws.

"And I was just thinking, you know, you're definitely tough, but you also don't worry about impressing other people all the goddamn time, you know?"

Sylvie nodded again. She only worried about impressing other person, not other people. Big difference.

"Like, can you believe that Emma tried to get me in a dress for some stupid dance last year? Like, fuck, I'm not gonna wear some stupid-ass frilly thing just to impress guys."

Sophia almost spat that last word, in a way that reminded Sylvie of spitting Emma's name. She could understand. Her dad was pretty much the worst.

Actually, she could probably just tell Sophia that, straight out.

"Yeah, fuck guys. Like, my dad is just the fucking worst."

Sylvie savored the word 'fucking'. It wouldn't be right to say that around Taylor, but here was a different story.

Sophia gave her an odd look. Sylvie played back what she'd just said in her mind, and found that there was a surprisingly honest amount of vehemence in it.

Felt good to say, though.

Fuck Eidolon. Yeah.

Then Sophia nodded, and Sylvie thought there was a flash of understanding on her face.

A moment of comfortable silence passed between them. Well, Sylvie was pretty sure it was comfortable. She felt alright with it, at any rate.

Then Sophia put one hand on Sylvie's, and squeezed, and Sylvie's brain shorted out for a second.

The words Sophia was saying flew right past Sylvie’s ears. They were understanding words, even sympathetic words. Sylvie didn’t hear what they were, not exactly, but she heard the feeling they were said with, the honesty, the truth packed into every meaningless syllable.

Sophia was leaning in a little closer now, and she was smiling, just a little bit. And suddenly, Sylvie couldn’t see past the person sitting in front of her, couldn’t see past the tiny dancing sparkles in her eyes, past the happy smile, past the comfort coming from her lips.

Sylvie hugged her. Hugging was nice.

And the other girl wasn’t talking, was just there, was just there and present and happy and Sylvie was clinging to Taylor and there was nothing in the world that would ever pull her away from-

Taylor?

No.

No, this wasn’t Taylor. Sylvie’s eyes shot open. No, no, no, this wasn’t Taylor, this isn’t Taylor! She was supposed to be with Taylor, she wasn’t supposed to be here, with someone else, with anyone else, only Taylor, only her!

Sylvie shoves Sophia away with a yelp. Sophia, she, she was trying to steal...something. Her from Taylor, or Taylor from her, or both of them from each other, but she was doing it! She was breaking it! This wasn’t how it was supposed to be, Sophia was ruining it, Taylor was still unhappy so why was she lying here on the Boardwalk watching Sophia look confused and hurt and angry?

Sophia was saying something else now, a question, something, but Sylvie still couldn’t hear it. No. She didn’t want to hear it. She couldn’t let herself hear it! Sylvie yelled something, but she didn’t know what, something incoherent and hurt and angry, and then Sophia was yelling too. And then people were turning to look at them, and people were looking concerned, but Sylvie didn’t even care because Sophia had just tried to get her away from Taylor!

And then Sophia was really, really angry, and a knee was in Sylvie’s gut, and then the dark girl was stalking away down the Boardwalk.

Good.

She didn’t need her.

Monday, she would have Taylor.

She didn't need that weirdo.

Taylor was the important thing here.

Yes.

Sylvie turned towards Taylor's house.

\--------------

It was Monday.

Sylvie was ready.

She had her plan, she knew exactly what she was going to do. She'd set out for school with the sun just to be sure she had plenty of time.

The morning air tried unsuccessfully to chill her, but Sylvie was burning with energy. This was her moment, the moment where everything that mattered would fall into place.

She never needed Sophia.

She never needed Mrs. Harris.

She had everything she needed right here with her, everything she could possibly use to turn the tables on Emma once and for all, free Taylor from Emma's cruelty, make everything right and good with the world.

Her voice was all she needed. Her Voice was all she needed.

She didn't even need to Look, because she knew.

Her Voice was enough. Her Voice was everything. There was never any reason to have shied away from using it.

She was back in her tattered summer dress, back barefoot. She didn't need any hand-me-downs, she didn't need any help.

She was enough to fix everything on her own.

She had all the power anyone could ever need.

The school, squat, brick, flimsy. Rusting fence, wide-open gate, graffiti on the walls. Sylvie took in every detail of it, because after this, it would be different.

It would be for her, and for Taylor, and them alone.

Everyone else would know.

This school no longer languished in squalor under Emma. No, it belonged to them.

It was hers.

And there Emma was, already gossiping on the front steps with her coterie, already casting a critical eye towards Sylvie.

Sylvie grinned, wide and angry.

Emma, this is what you deserve.

With no fanfare, Sylvie shoved her way into the circle of girls, to a chorus of likeminded gasps.

Emma glared at her, opened her mouth to spout "Gutter Rat" or "Trash" or any one of a million little words that didn't matter.

Sylvie put a hand over her mouth, and gripped, and hoisted Emma off her feet.

Sylvie was a human. But she was also an Endbringer.

The other girls started backing away, but Sylvie could care less about them.

She could see Emma's eyes widening in shock, could feel her trying to fight back, legs kicking, arms flailing.

"Emma, this is what you deserve."

Emma thrashed, harder.

"You were Taylor's friend, Emma. You were there for her, and I hated you for that. But then you stopped, and I hate you more now."

This wasn't part of the plan, but it felt so good to say, to finally let this little bitch know just why Sylvie was coming down like the avenging angel she looked like.

"You've been cruel to her, constantly, for so long. Well. Emma."

"I think it's time you got a taste of your own medicine."

And with that, Sylvie Screamed.

Her Voice reverberated, silently, inaudibly, like she'd never screamed before. Her dad had always wanted her screams to be obvious, a fearful thing, but now Sylvie was using it for herself.

She could feel the minds of the fleeing girls, and she made just enough of a change. The minds of the students walking to school, and she made just enough of a change. The minds of the teachers and the principal and every student at home and every student making their way here in the early morning light, and in every one she made just enough of an edit, reshuffled, confused memories, until it was how she wanted it. Until Emma was as much an outcast as she'd ever made Tay-

She could feel Taylor's mind.

Not far, not back at her home. She could feel Taylor's mind behind her, Taylor's eyes on her. She could hear Taylor breathing heavily, panting, like she'd run to see this.

Sylvie's Scream petered out, and she dropped Emma.

She turned to look at Taylor.

Taylor's eyes were wide.

Sylvie took a step forward.

Taylor took a step back.

Sylvie started moving, started talking. This wasn't what it looked like, Taylor. I was just fixing things, Taylor. Why do you have that look on your face, Taylor? Taylor, please...

Sylvie started pleading, and Taylor kept moving backwards, until she was in the street, until she turned and ran.

And Sylvie was alone.

\---------------

A girl who was no longer very small sat on a swingset, crying.

She was still pale, and still thin. She still seemed like she was made of paper, a sapling doubled over under the weight of emotion until her boughs touched the woodchips on the ground.

Sylvie was alone, again. As alone as she ever was, as alone as she always was. Her brothers, mindless drones. Her father, making her fight, making her do horrible things.

Taylor, who had run from her, who had fled like everyone always did when she descended.

Hopeslayer.

Her own hope, this time.

Her hopes that she could have been happy, that she could have this one light in her life, that she didn't always have to be her other self, destroying and breaking and ruining.

But now she didn't have Taylor. She didn't even have Mrs. Harris, or Sophia.

She just had her swing.

"Hi."

Sylvie looked up.

Standing across from her was the girl, still about her age. She was wearing an ugly olive sweater that was a little stained from juice bottles and a little marked from spitballs and a little frayed from shoves. She had pretty dark hair that hung low, laden with sweat, curls not bouncing like they always used to. She had eyes that stared flatly out from behind a pair of plain glasses, and a wide mouth set in a thin, grim line.

Sylvie's tears stopped flowing, just for a moment.

Already, though, she could See her time running out.

Her last view of Taylor.

"Sylvie. What did you do?"

Sylvie tried to choke out words, but nothing came.

"I saw how everyone was treating Emma. I saw you."

Sylvie's mouth moved, but noises wouldn't come out.

"Sylvie, I thought you were...you were nice. You were kind, you were there for me even when Emma..."

...

"But, but then you started being mean, and I figured that you had just grown a little older, that you weren't living anywhere and something had happened..."

...

"And now I...I don't know. Why, Sylvie? Emma was mean, she turned on me, but she wasn't..."

...

"She didn't deserve...this."

...

Taylor looked up. She had, at some point, started staring at the woodchips, feeling tears springing to her eyes.

The swingset was empty.

\--------------

At lunch the next day, Emma sat alone.

Taylor sat down next to her.


End file.
